


A Father's Blessing

by edibleflowers



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: A moment of memory.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	A Father's Blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for the first year (Chapter 9); takes place post-timeskip, includes minor Blue Lions run spoilers. Basically there was a certain missing scene that my soul needed to see before the ending of the game, dammit.

Five years it's been since Byleth saw her father cut down before her very eyes. She still recalls, all too clearly, how that child tripped past him, all smiles even as she turned and sank a knife between his ribs. The joy had never left her eyes. Byleth had drawn on her divine power to try and stop the action before it happened, but that was when Thales appeared and stopped her, then took Monica (or Kronya, or whatever her name truly was) and vanished again.

The girl's death hadn't satisfied her. It was an ending, nothing more. Now, standing before the grave where Jeralt's bones lie buried next to those of her mother, Byleth understands that nothing but time could ease the pain in her heart. Time -- and the caring of sympathetic friends who had allowed her privacy to grieve, had helped shoulder her burdens.

She can still hear his laugh in her memory. He'd had a rough voice, but even the rawness of it raised in joy was lovely to hear. He'd taught her to fight with sword and axe, how to defend herself, raised her in a life of solitude and endless journeying. But he'd been free with his hugs when she cried, generous with his praise when she succeeded at a given task. He'd read her fairy tales at night by the campfire. He'd showed her how to cook, at least enough to be able to eat without poisoning herself. 

He'd been a solid rock for her to rest on. Even now, she feels set adrift.

She kneels to place the flowers she'd gathered from the greenhouse on the gravestone. Time has eroded the carving of his name only slightly. There is a date of death, if not of birth: Byleth had made sure of that much. The world will know when he lived, at least.

A footstep distracts her, and she stands again to see Dimitri making his way down the wide stone steps towards her. She steps back, dusting the dirt from her knees.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" he asks as he comes closer.

"No," she says. She's been trying to be better about speaking, rather than simply nodding or shaking her head in response to questions.

"I came to pay my respects." Indeed, a bouquet of colorful flowers is in one of Dimitri's hands, similar to the one Byleth just set down. "It occurred to me that today..."

She tips her head as she looks at him. The Dimitri standing before her now has regained his balance, found the inner strength he needed to overcome the ghosts haunting him day and night. Still, she hadn't expected him to remember the date. "Five years," she says, slightly cautious. 

"Dedue reminded me," Dimitri says, and Byleth nods. Of course Dedue would remember. Dimitri steps forward, kneeling to place the flowers beside the ones Byleth already laid on the tombstone. He bows his head briefly, as if in silent commemoration of the dead, and then stands again and steps back to her side once more.

"I still miss him so much," she finds herself saying. Though she had thought long ago she'd cried out all her tears for him, a few still manage to surprise her every now and then. "I never imagined not having him in my life."

Dimitri only nods. Of course he understands how she feels. He's been through the same thing, and at an earlier age; she'd hated seeing him so engulfed by rage and the desire for revenge, but she'd understood it. He stays quiet, though, leaving the moment as it is. A gentle breeze whispers past them, ruffling the grass and setting a few loose flower-petals dancing.

Without thinking, Byleth reaches for Dimitri's hand. She feels him startle beside her, but his fingers thread through hers: she can feel the warmth of him even through the fine leather gloves. When she glances up at him, he's looking down at her with a faintly astonished gaze.

"Is this all right?" she asks.

"Of course." He seems to relax; his fingers squeeze her hand. She thinks of the night after he was stabbed by that girl seeking revenge for the death of her brother (why, she still wonders, had _no one_ questioned the maiden's identity, not once), how he'd finally been shaken from that state of madness -- and how he'd spoken of the warmth of her hands. 

Byleth doesn't touch very many people. Though she and her students (well, former students, now) are close in age, there's still been a careful distance there due to her role in their lives. True, Sylvain flirted, but for him flirting was like breathing, and she'd learned how to casually deflect it. Keeping a respectful space was necessary in the monastery, with the children of nobility needing to remain pure and untouched so that their parents continue to fund the academy. 

But it has been five years. Dimitri is no longer her student. They're equals, both in this rebellion and in their personal lives. He still calls her 'Professor', but everyone does that. 

"Dimitri," she says. Something seems to go light and hot in her chest when he turns to look at her more fully. His hair still hangs loose over his forehead, once-tidy locks obscuring the patch covering his right eye. Now that he's back to himself, his hair is soft and clean, shining in the sunlight. Byleth reaches up and touches the soft strands, draws her fingers through it.

His good eye goes wide. "Professor," he says. His voice is low and soft.

"Please, Dimitri." Her throat works. "You've earned the right to call me by my name."

Dimitri's free hand rises as if without conscious direction. His fingers curve at her cheek.

"Byleth," he says, and bends his head to hers. She lifts hers to meet the kiss.

She'd never known what such a thing would feel like. She'd known only that the students chattered excitedly about such activities -- some with casual familiarity, some with innocent wonder -- all of them assured that kissing was one of the most important things one could do with another person. A first kiss, she remembers reading in stories, was meaningful and special. Some kisses brought loved ones back to life or out of deathlike slumbers; others sealed the promise of eternal love and commitment.

This kiss, she knows she'll remember always.

Dimitri's lips are smooth, warm, against hers. She can feel the puff of his breath, hear the faint astonished sound he makes when she pushes in to get closer to him. His arm comes around her, as if to anchor her: Byleth gladly leans her whole weight into his solid frame. She doesn't mind the armor, the chestplate and armguards and the heavy cloak -- at least, not just yet she doesn't mind them. 

When their lips part, he's still watching her with that amazement in his good eye. "Is this really happening?" he asks.

"I certainly hope so." Byleth finds herself smiling uncontrollably even as she lets her weight come back down onto her feet again. She wants more -- but not here, not before the place where her parents rest.

As if reminded, Dimitri glances at the gravestone. Then -- suddenly, and rather sweetly -- he goes red, as if he's too just recalled where they stand. "Oh, I'm -- I'm so sorry," he says. "This is inappropriate, to -- to do... _this_ \--" His eye flickers down to her lips.

Byleth shakes her head, going a little more solemn now. "Perhaps, but then again..." She looks down at the stone now, if only for a moment. Her hand squeezes his again. "He would have approved of you. I never knew her, but I like to think she would have, too."

She'll never be able to tell her father about her first love. He'll never see her marry, nor see his grandchildren. But as she and Dimitri turn -- together -- to walk away from the cemetery and back to their responsibilities, she can still feel his smile on her like a blessing, and she's content.


End file.
